Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 131916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
I wasn’t sure.
But still, I remained, willingly trapped.
A fool who was hinged on what he might do next.
He dipped in closer, so close that I panicked for a second that his mouth was going to press against mine, that he was going to kiss me, though he angled his head to the side and muttered, “Why’s it I fuckin’ love that I marked you?”
He kept brushing his thumb over the words, his eyes flicking between mine and the design.
“I’m sure you love making your mark on plenty of women.” I didn’t know where the rebuttal even came from.
Amused disbelief filled his grunt. “Always proud of my work, but this one hit different. Why’s that?”
He was looking at me like I might be the one to possess the answer.
“I can assure you, there is nothing special about me.” It was a defense. A wall. The need for him to look away because I wasn’t sure I could stand beneath his attention.
He was the last kind of man I should want, not that I could ever trust anyone to hold me.
Touch me.
Wasn’t sure I could ever expose myself that way.
But still, my stomach was in knots, a throb deep inside that I’d never experienced before.
His tongue stroked across his bottom lip, his gaze roiling with a dark understanding that made me want to both run and drop to my knees.
“Think you’re wrong about that, gorgeous. Haven’t been able to get you off my mind since the second you walked through my door. No forgetting you. Wreckin’ my mind the way you did.”
I inhaled a shattered breath. I should shut him down. Push him off. Tell him he was being wildly inappropriate.
But a fire roared.
One he’d lit.
Somehow, his voice lowered further. “Can’t stop thinkin’ about what would’ve happened had I actually asked you to stay. What it would have been like if you’d let me take you right on my chair. Wondering how good you’d taste. How good you’d feel.”
A hurricane of need whipped through my body. Something brand new and terrifying.
My tongue darted out to wet my suddenly dry lips, and my voice had gone haggard. “That wouldn’t have happened. I don’t sleep with strangers.”
He didn’t need to know everyone was a stranger.
His touch danced over the ink on my arm again, though this time he’d shifted his hand to play all of his fingertips over it as if it were written in Braille. Flames lapped at the contact point.
He inhaled deeply like he was drugging himself on my scent. “Smart girl. Not the kind of guy a girl like you should go mixin’ with.”
He shifted from my arm and dragged his thumb down the side of my face when he said it.
A jagged rasp climbed my throat.
“You ready, Daddy-O? I’m all done!” The tinkling voice that suddenly filled the room froze us both solid, and it took a second before River was able to tear his attention from me to look over his shoulder.
Shaking, I looked that way, too, toward the adorable little boy who was doing jumping jacks in the doorway, thankfully oblivious to what his father was implying.
My heart squeezed painfully as I looked at his precious cherub face.
“Yup. Definitely ready, buddy.”
River peeled himself back, slowly as he took a step away. My body bowed forward from the loss of support.
He suddenly shoved his hand into the back pocket of his jeans, and my eyes widened when he pulled out a wad of cash.
I was pretty sure it was the money I’d left on the counter at his shop.
Something wry played in the shadows of his turbid gaze as he reached out and tucked it into the left breast pocket of my scrubs.
He patted the spot, nearly sending me into cardiac arrest.
“There. Now we’re even.”
Then he turned on his heel and strode across the room, taking the little boy’s hand in his.
“Bye, Miss Charleigh, see you next time I take a tumble!” Nolan called over his shoulder as River led him out.
The man never looked back as he went.
ELEVEN
RIVER
SIXTEEN YEARS OLD
His baby sister wouldn’t stop trembling where she sat in the front seat of his crummy car. She was wrapped in a blanket and curled into a ball. Shivering and shivering.
He tried to breathe while his heart ran manic. His mind still spun, and his body throbbed from the blows he’d taken.
One after another.
But he’d gladly taken them for her before he’d retaliated, turned the full force of his strength on the piece of shit who was supposed to love and protect his sister but instead had tormented her for years.
Their mother was too fucking gone over the bastard to ever stand for what was right. Turning a blind eye to the abuse. Accepting it for her children. Accepting it for herself.
Over the years, River had tried to stand against him, but he’d been too young and too weak.